  I thought that everything was over with Robin. But our first fight sort of disrupted the structure of nearly all my friendships. Really, I know this is probably an overstatement. But I just am in a really off-putting place right now. I am spending more time with my 'Never, Ever Cheerlead' friends, and feel disconnected with the others. Every time Robin applies another layer of mascara, I want to vomit.
And every time Leigh buts into a conversation I am having, I want to kick her. I feel like I am friends with my friends for the wrong reasons. I met my group last year. Robin rode my bus, and knew Meghan. Robin and Lauren were sort of a package deal, you know, the friends that come together? Leigh was in my homeroom.
Mary was in almost all my classes. We were a strange grouping of freshmen, our relationships forged more so from avoiding other people than from actually wanting to be friends. That’s a shitty way to start a friendship, right? I mean, I disgusted them the least, but it wasn’t one of those kindred-spirit things. It was just consistently comfortable. It wasn’t awkward or forced.
We didn’t fight, but we didn’t do much of anything really. We watched movies and talked about life. It was nice. Nice like a Dave Matthews song. It was pleasant, inoffensive… but ultimately, I wanted more. And yes, we became closer.
We discovered that there was a lot more to each of us than previously thought. I mean, Robin and I have been really close. Same with Anna, I guess. But there is this underlying factor. I want the kind of friendships that aren’t just easy to handle, “ let’s go see the new Julia Roberts movie ” relations. When Conor Oberst sings about his friends, he says he would be nothing without them.
He says he wants to love and to be loved. Well, I don’t really feel loved. I feel appreciated . I like it when they laugh at my jokes and empathize with my bad days. I care for them so much, but I don’t know if being around them is good for me. I think, “ Ok; things will get better.
Friendships grow. They aren’t instantaneous .” But something is hindering this illusive closeness. We’re all changing. I’m not going to leave that out of the equation. As cliché and teenage as it is, it’s the truth. I hate that I have to grow up.
I hate that I am not going to be this way forever. I want to dance around my bedroom to ‘Always’ until my walker gets in the way. I want The Bell Jar to be my favorite book forever and ever, amen. But maybe Rilo Kiley will break up. Maybe I’ll read something better. I can’t predict what’s to come.
I’m lucky that I have been accepted into a group of smart, wonderful, caring individuals with opinions and beliefs and interests. They are good people. They are amazing people, hidden under a façade of makeup and carefully-coordinated outfits. There is so much to each one of them. They are complex, quirky, and I care for them very much. That’s why I feel so guilty for not loving them like I should.
Our friendships are cheapened by my inability to connect better with them. I guess I shouldn’t think about this much more, because it makes me very, very sad. Losing a friend is one of the hardest things to get over. Because your friends know you more intimately than anyone else. Your parents may have been there through the milestones, the first steps and words, but your friends know every crush, every favorite lyric, every secret. They are there for you when no one else seems to care.
And that’s why my heart pains me to even consider lessening their importance. It’s just so hard to think about all of this. I don’t want to be like Mary. I don’t want to hurt them, and I don’t want to lose them. I just want… something more. There is always that fucking, never-near Something More .
And I hate it. I don’t know what it is, but I hate that I have yet to find it, and I hate that I am not even close. Affectionately… Anna 
